He's a smoker.

The entire 55-minute drive from her home to whatever dungeon he sleeps in, Howard smokes. His eyes are trained on the road as a cigar rests on his bottom lip and Inessa is staring at him. At the way his lips are perfectly parted to balance the cigar when both hands are necessary to stir the wheel. How his eyes are unflinching as he navigates the snowy roads of New York and the frozen bodies barely able to pay for new coffee beans.

She still staring when he takes a deep breath from the cigar and breathes out the white smoke inside the car without the windows down. Her glare only grows when she watches his lips twitch, moving upwards into a smirk.

There had been no words exchanged and Inessa was not going to be the first to break. To speak first was a sign of defeat, that she would simply accept her fate. If she was to yell and scream she would be labelled crazy or worse - uncivilised. If she stayed quiet, she knew she was at risk of Howard assuming she had "taken her place in society as his wife", but Inessa knew better.

She would be quiet for a short while, only speaking if Howard speaks first. She'll fight him, of course, nothing was stopping her tendency towards violence and she was sure Howard would fight back. Inessa would be silent, yes, but she wouldn't be forgotten, she would hold up her own rebellion - one to destroy Howard's entire empire.

Because what else did she really have to lose?

The twenty-six-story STARK apartment building was not what Inessa expected as Howard's primary residency. She had fantasised about a small, cramped cottage downtown or perhaps he had found a home in the sewage system on 17th street. Inessa didn't really care how much money he had, she still assumed he lived poor.

But there was nothing poor about STARK apartments.

She remembers the newspaper articles claiming Howard to be an architecture genius, but she hadn't bothered to read the full piece. The article was much better as a paper to keep the fire going in the snowstorm of 1941. Yet, she stared up at the buildings that were a strange mix of Modern and Baroque; there was a haunting beauty to see how much taller it was to all the surrounding apartment complexes.

Without any caution, Howard grabs her hand forcefully and pulls her towards the entrance where she's met with a red, lush foyer with security and countless staff inside. Inessa tries to pull her wrist away from his bruising grip, but he doesn't bulge and continues to walk her towards the elevator - passing a sea of eyes all curious to know who she is.

Howard nods at the elevator operator and she watches him press the largest number, 26, as the elevator rumbles alive and begins its descent up to the tallest floor of the building. The trip up was silent and dread slowly began to wash over her mind.

Her brother had sold her.

She was to get married.

Howard is her future husband.

Inessa is going to be sick. She had always assumed her brother would somehow come into some sort of riches or her mother would finally beg her family for money. In the past few days, she had come to terms with working for money and even began scouting men surely under her station for any money to keep the family afloat.

But she never wanted to marry a man she hated. Her mother had told her she would let nothing happen when she overheard her brother suggesting it when she was only twelve. Inessa didn't expect to marry for love, but she expected respect.

As Howard pushed her out of the elevator and down the short hallway towards the only door on the floor, she knew for a fact that Howard did not respect her in the slightest. Once the door opens, he throws her to the ground and Inessa huffs in annoyance, not appreciating the manhandling in the slightest. She keeps her eyes towards the ground and makes no effort to get up as she hears Howard move around her and open a cupboard.

Glass clinks.

"Get up", Howard says, finally breaking the silence.

Inessa looks up at him through her eyebrows as she stares up at him as he swirls a brown liquid in his whisky glass.

"I wouldn't need to get up if you didn't throw me to the ground."

He takes a sip from his drink as he continues to stare at her. They stay like this for a few minutes before Inessa pulls herself up and pats her white dress down, dusting off poor people's dust. She walks towards the open cupboard and pours red wine into a glass before she returns her gaze to Howard.

"We marry next week."

Inessa takes a large sip.

"If anyone asks, we have been courting for two years - secretly, to avoid James from finding out"

She doesn't sip now, she's chugging and already pouring herself another glass.

"Am I clear?"

There was something different in the way he was staring at her as if she was a business deal that he so desperately needed to win.

"Yes, husband", Inessa mocks.

Howard says nothing as he grabs a document on the table and holds it out for her to read it. She doesn't take it straight away, choosing to pour herself another glass of red wine before she dares read a document Howard himself has put together.

Her gaze scans over it and she realises what it is before she has time to finish her glass of wine.

"A contact!", Inessa snaps.

She watches as Howard takes a sip from his whiskey before he raises his eyebrow and Inessa lets out a huff of frustration. So she reads it carefully, knowing how ruthless Howard is when he's behind a piece of paper and ink.

A scoff leaves her mouth when she reads the first sentence: no affairs.

"And is this contract also for yourself?"

He doesn't reply, but he doesn't need to. The title 'Agreement of marriage to Mr Howard Anthony Walter Stark' gave away that she was the only one having to live by rules.

The more she read, the more she wanted to jump from the building and end it all. The contract was as follows:

1. Miss Vanel must not engage in any adultery or affairs without the explicit consent of Mr Stark.

2. All sexual advances are not to be rejected.

"You're a pig," Inessa hisses as she continues to read.

3. Miss Vanel must not speak ill or conduct any behaviours that can ruin the Stark reputation.

4. Mr Stark will make any decisions concerning Miss Vanel's health if she is deemed unfit by Mr Stark.

"Remove this," Inessa states. When Howard doesn't move an inch, she steps towards him. "Howard. Remove this!", she yells as her eyes continue to read on.

5. An heir must be conceived by the end of 1943.

Tears begin to well up in her eyes.

6. Contact with Miss Vanel's family will be restricted if she does not abide by the rules.

A gasp falls from her lips.

7. Miss Vanel will accept any new rules or adamants in the foreseeable future.

This cannot be happening.

"You can't do this," Inessa pleads as she throws the paper to the floor, "I refuse it!"

Howard takes a long sip from his glass before he drops it on the floor, the sound of glass crashing making Inessa jump as he stalks towards her. And for the second time that day, she finds herself backed into a corner with Howard's lips hovering above her. She trashes against him as he grips her wrists and her throat tightly. She's trapped- she's-

"-Breathe," Howard says in a voice remotely similar to annoyance, "I will not have a wife that cries when she does not get her way."

He's dismissive.

She wants to hurt him.

Inessa reaches for the wine bottle behind her head but he stops her as he places his large hands over hers, a small tutting sound coming from his lips.

"Why?", Inessa whimpers as Howard lowers himself to her height, his cold hazel eyes meeting her grey ones. "Why me, why those rules?"

As the silence grows on, Inessa thinks. She had thought herself Nora, trapped in a marriage that didn't let her be who she was - now she knows her plight is much worse.

"Rules can change," Howard whispers as his lips ghost her own, "But Stark men will only have the best and you're too damn near perfect to be warming someone else's bed."

His lips capture hers. His kisses were without permission or caution and Inessa forgets to breathe as his tongue claims her mouth, taking it as his own. There was nothing romantic about him, about his declaration or the way he kisses. This was not love, and as his lips trailed from her lips to her throat, slowly sucking at the nap, Inessa knew she was fucked.

A low whine left her lips against her will. When his hand ghosted up her dress to her covered breasts, she felt herself arching her back into his grip as a rumble of his chuckle vibrated against her neck.

Inessa had never kissed anyone before. Never made love, never fucked, never anything. Yet, she was standing against a wine cupboard being groped and marked by a man who is to become her husband. It's unlawful, completely against all her mother's teachings on modesty.

But she doesn't push him off, she's too idled-minded to do so.

She protests weakly, whimpers of "Howard" followed by "stop" followed by "Howard" without the "stop". She's lost to him, a man who seemingly is perfect at anything he puts his mind to.

He moves back to her mouth with his hands at her throat as he nibbles at her lower lip, dragging an unwilling moan from her lips. The kiss was hungry, as if he needed the breath leaving her throat to breathe. As if every inch of her belonged to him, and she supposes the contract made it such. The cupboard rattles as his kiss bruises, forcing his way through her parted lips.

Howard tasted like whiskey and cigars.

"My perfect wife," he whispers between kisses, and Inessa can't even speak - to reject what he is saying as his fingers roll over her breaths, catching her hardened nipple through her dress.

His other hand trails down her neck, past her breast, and sprawls across her stomach. A shiver spreads across her spine as Howard's lips move to her jawline, his warm breath hot against his ear.

"You'll stay here until the wedding, a maid will deliver you food - but you will not leave and no one will enter."

It is as if cold water has been dropped over her and the clarity that escaped her only minutes before had returned. Howard was already halfway across the room as she blinked twice, forcing herself out of a daze.

"Wh-what?", Inessa says, "Wait no!"

The door slams closed.

A click follows.

She's locked in.

Inessa lets out a scream as only one thought comes to her: she hates Howard and his perfect lips.

Author's note:

Yeah, Howard is lowkey not the slayest person rn but y'know WE NEED SOME HOWARD DIVERSITY. 

Also again, Inessa hating poor people is so funny because I am currently writing this trying to figure out how to pay my rent when it increases LMAO

WELL HOPE THIS IS GOOD cuz this fanfic is going to TEST my writing ability cuz I'm not once to write anything more sexual than a PG+ 13 middle-aged 2012 YA dystopian book. So let's find out if I can write anything without cringing (I am already).

I also think this will end up longer with shorter chapters HAHAHA but pls expect some time jumps cuz I am too lazy to do the same world building like Chemical Poision (cuz god forbids thats taking me forever to write).

Thanks loves!